THE NOVEMBER MOON.

The silvery moon looks down, looks down
From her balcony in the skies
On n somber wood of russet and brown
With wide and wondering eyes.
And she looks in valu on will and plain
For the grave where summer les,
For the dalsy is dead and the daffodil fled,
And the flame in the forest dies.

She leans her cheek on a allvery arm
And her argent hair blows free,
And the velling clouds lend a subtle charm
And a wonderful witchery,
And her glances rove from grove to grove
And from lea to darkening len,
But never a rose in the garden glows
Nor a blossom may she see.

And her nightly vigil she always keeps
From her balcony in the sky,
While the russet world in silence sleeps
And the lonely zephyrs sigh,
And she vells her face in the cloud-hung красе,
For the dancing stars are nigh,
And she bows her head for the flowers dead
And the Joyfulness long gone by.
-,Will Reed Dunroy